Stay
by Mercedes Watson
Summary: It's just the bang and the clatter as an angel hits the ground. Reese/Crews...ish. Post-series.


I went to a U2 concert the other night and they did a haunting rendition of their song "Stay (Faraway, So Close)" and this came out afterwards. The summary is the final line in that song (and it should be obvious where I got the title from). It's not a songfic because it doesn't _quite_ fit but it's definitely inspired by that song.

This is also my first public foray into the Life fandom, so any and all feedback is welcome. :)

Spoilers for the whole of Life.

* * *

><p>She should have known something was up when Crews was at the crime scene of their latest victim before she was. Crews was a good cop, but he always somehow managed to find something to distract him on the way to nearly every crime scene that caused him to be varying degrees of late.<p>

"What do we got, Crews?" She asked, making to push past him and carefully make her way down the side of the gully they were at.

"Dani."

She looked down. His hand was on her elbow.

"What have I said about you touching me?"

"Don't go down there." He was wearing the same impassive, carefully blank face that he put on when telling family members that their relative had been murdered.

She ignored it. "Why? Because some butterfly flapped it's wings in Bangladesh and that means I'm going to crack my head open if I go down there?"

"Go home. Your mom needs you."

She watched in the reflection of Crew's sunglasses as realization dawned on her own face. Without a word, she turned away from him and ran towards the edge of the deep ditch a few yards from the side of the road. She reached the edge and saw a man face down in the shallow water. His flesh was swollen and waterlogged, clothes ragged and dirty. His hair had been a snowy white, before the back of his head had been blown apart by the exit wound of a high caliber bullet.

"Oh my God," she managed to get out, swallowing down the bile that was creeping up her throat. "Oh my God."

Crews was suddenly there, arm around her shoulders and steering her away from the gruesome sight of her father's final resting place. "Easy, Dani. Breathe. Remember to breathe."

Strangers' bodies she could handle. After all, she only knew them after they were dead. She never saw the light in their eyes, never watched them dance with her mother at their 20th wedding anniversary, didn't have memories of playing in the backyard with them when she was 8. As much as she hated him, as much as they disagreed, this was still her _father_ and—

Dani broke free from Crew's grasp and quickly made her way to the back end of the cruiser she had pulled up in. There, she promptly emptied out the contents of her stomach onto the pavement.

When she was finished, she wiped the corners of her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket. She straightened and saw Crews there, holding out a roll of mints already unwrapped.

She took one. "I have to call my mom."

.x.x.x.x.x.

It's night. Her mother has been a wailing mess all day. The phone has been ringing off the hook with condolences and everyone who ever knew Jack Reese has been parading in and out of her mother's house all day long. A lot of them brought food, or flowers, or both along with their condolences. They all wanted to talk to Dani about how great her father was, what a good cop he was, how she should be proud that she's following in such a great man's footsteps.

Dani had left the house twenty minutes ago, saying she needed to talk a walk. Get some air.

An electronic doorbell rang somewhere in the depths of the convenience store as she stepped into it. The fluorescent lighting was harsh and the store was utterly deserted, save for the stoner teenager behind the counter, too busy texting on his phone to notice her.

She makes a beeline for the liquor case and buys the grossest, cheapest bottle of vodka she can find.

She uncaps it as she walks out of the store, electronic doorbell dinging again. She takes a deep pull from it, relishing the burn as it makes its way to her belly.

Now she's ready to head for the bar.

.x.x.x.x.x.

She honestly had intended to go to her father's funeral. She had even dressed up for it. She had even called her mother to let her know that she was on her way as she was leaving her house.

Through a haze of alcohol and coke, she watches as this man she's barely known for more than ten minutes hikes up the black dress she picked out for the funeral around her hips. She tries to keep the mental image of her mother, alone, at her father's funeral out of her head.

"Harder," she commands, bare seconds after he's started pumping in and out of her. "Harder. Harder, goddamn it!"

The sound of censored cursing is what wakes her the next morning. Blearily she sits up to see one of those baby-daddy "talk shows" playing on the TV. Must be later in the day than she thought. Her mother is probably wondering where she is. It's almost funny how familiar this scene is to her, waking up in the afternoon, the residue of coke and booze still clinging to her system, the soreness between her legs. She's fond of the familiarity yet disgusted by it at the same time.

The man next to her is still sleeping and likely will be for a while yet. She had kept him going long after the alcohol had started to affect his performance. Her wrists are sore and bruised and the muscles of her thighs and butt protest as she moves around the room, collecting her clothes. She finishes off a mostly empty beer that had been left with its empty siblings on the nightstand and then heads out the door.

She's the personification of a hangover as she makes her way down the street, looking for a familiar landmark to tell her where she is.

.x.x.x.x.x.

"You weren't at the funeral." Crews says by way of greeting a few days later as she sits down at her desk.

"And you were?" She shoots back, taking a sip of her coffee. There might be a splash or two of vodka in it to keep the tremor out of her hands.

"No, but your mom called my house last night. Wanted to know if I knew were you were. Said she hadn't seen you in a couple of days and was starting to worry."

"I stopped by this morning, before coming here." Reese lies, making a mental note to sneak away later and call her mom.

He reaches across their desks and takes her hand in his. "Reese."

Her eyes drop down to where her hand sits in his larger one before rising to meet his blue ones. She has a moment of panic, thinking that he can maybe see the healing bruises around her wrists.

"_Crews._" The note of warning is clear in her voice.

"I want you to know that it's okay if you're upset. I know you didn't have a good relationship with him, but he was still your father. It's okay."

She swallows awkwardly; her mouth and throat have suddenly gone dry. She draws her hand away and nods at the stack of files on his desk. "What do we got?"

.x.x.x.x.x.

"Got any plans for tonight?" Crews asks her on a Friday that's almost two weeks after since she saw her father lying face down in a ditch with most of the back of his head missing.

"None that you need to know about," she replies, not even looking up from her paper work.

"I'm craving pizza. I think I'm gonna order a huge pizza and see if I can eat it all by myself."

She knows what he's doing. He's hoping she'll just happen to "be in the neighborhood" later tonight and that they can eat pizza together while she talks about her feelings. "Let me guess: Hawaiian pizza?"

"No, but that sounds like a really good idea now that you mention it. Thanks, Reese."

"Don't mention it."

Despite her pointed ignorance of his invitation earlier in the day, Reese finds herself on his doorstep at 3 am. She's drunk and she's high and she's scared. There's something coming, looming in the near future and the drugs and booze aren't warding it off anymore.

When he finally opens the door, he's sleepy-eyed and wearing only sweatpants. "Reese?"

She reaches up, wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down for a sloppy kiss.

He pushes her away. "What are you doing?"

"Are you gonna let me in or not?"

Charlie looks out into the street, as if concerned his non-existent neighbors are watching. He then steps aside and lets her in.

.x.x.x.x.x.

The first rays of sunlight for the day are streaming in through the blinds in Crews' bedroom when she wakes. She'd sobered up while sleeping and oh God, this is so much worse than all the other times because this is _Crews_ for crying out loud.

_Really outdone yourself this time, Dani. What a spectacular fuck up you are. Dad was right. _

Just as the thought to attempt to sneak out enters her head, his hand slides over her wrist and holds it, gently. "Come back to me, Dani," he half mumbles into his pillow. "I miss you."

She plans on ignoring him but it's as if he can hear her thoughts.

"I need my partner back."

That's what does it. She can disappoint herself, she can disappoint her family all with no problem. She can drink and snort and shoot up as punishment. But there isn't enough dope in the world to atone for letting down her partner.

"Crews—" Her voice is afraid and her eyes are watering with tears.

"It's ok," he says, opening his eyes. "Let it come."

He takes her in his arms as everything within her crumbles under the weight of returning to reality.


End file.
